He appeared fairly crazed with fear, unaware in his blind terror of the close proximity of the cabin.
"Hold on!" I yelled, springing forward, my arms thrown up, directly in the animal's course.

"Stop, you fool!" I know not whether the frantic horse checked itself, or if the rider drew rein, but the beast stopped, half rearing, and I gazed with amazement into the revealed face of the man--he was Joe Kirby.

Before I could speak, or move, he burst into words.
"You! Knox! My God, man, whoever you are, don't refuse me shelter!" "Shelter?
from what ?" my hand closing on a pistol butt.
"Indians! Be merciful, for God's sake.

They are there in the valley, they are after me.

I just escaped them--they were going to burn me at the stake!" I glanced aside at Tim; his rifle was flung forward.